


Holmes In Heat

by ViolentAddict



Series: Omegaverse Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Alpha! Watson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Attempted PWP, Blowjobs, Caring Doctor Watson, Eventual Smut, I'm going to the special hell aren't I?, Impatient Sherlock, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega!Sherlock, RDJ!Verse, Slight Mention Of Noncon, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolentAddict/pseuds/ViolentAddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Great Detective, Sherlock Holmes is an Omega, but he lets nothing define him. Not biology, not society, nothing. His reputation for being a brilliant detective is defined only by his efficiency.  </p><p>But then, he goes into a serious heat and needs an Alpha to make it all better. It's degrading, debasing and he despises this side of himself. Especially when he doesn't want just any Alpha, he wants Watson. That's not even the shaming part; Watson's with the beta girl Mary and has the self-control of a deity, he should be off limits, but nothing is ever off limits for Sherlock, at least not for long...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. White Heat, Red Hot

**Author's Note:**

> You know the saying, write the story you want to read? I wrote this because it's really hard to find A/B/O fics based off of the RDJ!Holmes verse, so I decided to write one.
> 
> This was an attempt at a Oneshot PWP, but it was more of a challenge than I thought. So it's going to be a three chapter story with a little plot, but hopefully more porn. 
> 
> It's also unbeta'ed, so if anyone wants to help me make this story as smutty and wonderful as possible, then let me know. Hope you guys enjoy. ;)

_Feel the heat pushing you to decide  
                       Feel the heat burning you up, ready or not_

 

                                                 _-Some Like It Hot –Robert Palmer_

 

          The familiar sensation was there _again._  He could feel it; the burning, like an itch he just couldn’t scratch, just under his skin, beneath the surface. It was faint, but strong enough to jar him from his sleep.

 

           That was the first warning sign, yet he chose to ignore it by instead choosing to turn over and resume his slumber. He almost succeeded, until, after a couple of hours he could feel the cramps as his stomach twisted and turned yet again jarring him from his sleep. Sweat broke across his brow and with much annoyance; he lifted his hand to wipe it away.

 

          He was probably just sick, that was all. But he’d live. He’d been through much worse and though he couldn’t recall any of those times at the moment, he still managed to convince himself. Resting his head back on the pillow, he stared at the ceiling above him.

         

          Perhaps, if he counted sheep, (an old remedy he often disregarded as a waste of time, but was finding the idea more and more appealing by the minute), he would probably get some well needed sleep before the day officially began.

         

          So he counted and counted and counted. The cramps seemed to be getting worse the harder he tried to ignore them. He was considering the meals he ate in the past twenty-four hours as a possible culprit when he felt it; the slick trickling down the cheeks of his arse to soak through the cotton of his nightshirt. 

 

_It couldn’t be_ , he thought. But he wasn’t called the Great Detective for nothing. He could feel the fire, right there beneath his skin, burning him up both inside and out. His chest heaved slightly for air and he gasped, taking in a lungful.

 

         His arousal, that had been the easiest to ignore what with all the other sensations bombarding him, was now heavy between his legs and like the rest of him, begged to be _touched_.

 

        The rest of him broke out into a cold sweat and though he was always acutely aware of everything around him, now, it was as if someone turned his alertness knob up to eleven.

 

        He was in heat, plain and simple. There was no denying it and from the heightened sensations alone, he could tell this was going to be one of his most intense ones.

 

        His hips, on their own accord, raised and lowered, trying to find friction from the sheets wrapped around him. Appalled, he ripped the sheets off himself and rose from the bed.

 

        The room was hot…too hot. He was suffocating and he was sure, that this would be what it was like to physically, literally burn in Hell.

 

         To make things worse, his mouth was dry. Luckily, he had left a glass of water on the nightstand. He sipped it greedily, before pouring the remains over his head.

 

          It helped, as he hoped it would, but only temporarily.

 

          He knew he should have taken his suppressants. Watson had been reminding him faithfully every month, without knowing that Holmes had quit taking the infernal things as they were simply interacting with his cocaine in a most horrid way, not to mention having to take them was quite taxing. His demanding life had very little pause and frankly, his suppressants didn’t seem that important.

 

         Now, he could almost kick himself for his stupidity. Another aching twist of his stomach had him clutching his waist, trying to quell the pain.

 

        The slick was now oozing down his thighs and he pressed them together, trying to contain some of it, to no avail. Raking his fingers through his hair, he tried to think of a solution. He knew exactly what he needed to cure it, more than a shower or a change of clothes ever could do, he needed a knot.

 

        It wasn’t natural, at the age of thirty-five, to go so long without a mate. Many Omegas should have been mated and bred up by then.

 

        Holmes, of course, wasn’t your average Omega— he refused to obey the rules of biology, his body, after all, was a weapon, not some empty slot for an Alpha to stick their knot in and breed up.

 

        And yet, he couldn’t deny Mother Nature at times like this. It was common knowledge that Omegas heats grew more insufferable the longer they went without a mate and he had tried to fix that with Irene. She was a capable Alpha and was perfect, but then she turned out to be untrustworthy and very scary in the bedroom. And before they could even commit the act of mating, he got that familiar warning in his gut and backed away from her with a promise that he’d call and the triumphant feeling of escaping something dangerous.

 

       Of course, many Alphas accosted him, but they were mostly slimy or creepy and he’d get that warning feeling again and with a carefully timed blow to the gut, he’d have them bested and would be on his way back to 221B Baker Street, pride intact, but body still unsatisfied.

 

       But there were times, during his last couple of heats, where it didn’t matter how slimy or creepy they were, he would lure them in with his scent and wouldn’t care in the slightest when one or the whole lot of Alphas would pull him into a nearby alleyway with promises of soothing the itch. They’d call him a filthy whore, a normal Omega bitch, and touch him in places he longed for contact. And he’d be content knowing they’d go through with their promise, knowing that he’d finally, finally get what he needed. That is until; Watson would show up, beat the men to a pulp and then whisk him away to safer areas where they’d be out of range of desperate, horny Alphas.

 

       It was times like those where Holmes would be unappreciative of his friend’s well-meaning, but misguided attempts at saving him from, as Watson called it, ‘potential rape’.

 

      And Watson, the only other Alpha besides Irene that Holmes knew personally, would glare at him and ask him if he had finally gone mad. Watson, who never worried about mating in the slightest as he was engaged to the beautiful, but annoying Beta, Mary and thought that biology, could happily go fuck itself, for lack of a better term. For rules didn’t apply to him, as he was very mastered in the art of practiced control.

 

      Watson was fortunate; after all, he dealt with many different people at the pinnacle of his doctoring and was praised by many for his unwavering focus, compassion and ability to withhold judgment on anybody, from Alphas like himself all the way down to the most helpless of Omegas. Holmes was sure that it was Watson who paved the way for other doctors to be more accepting of Omegas by leading by example.

 

     Yes, Watson was the Good Doctor and was the perfect one to call in times of trouble such as this. And he was the only one Holmes trusted with his health and wellbeing as Watson had been with him through some of his worst heats, gritting his teeth and bearing it with Holmes as if he too was also suffering.

 

    If it weren’t for Watson helping him— as proud and stubborn as Sherlock was, he had to admit, though he never would out loud, that the doctor’s help was greatly appreciated _sometimes_ — it would be a wonder if he’d even survive these heats alone.  If Watson hadn’t been there, he’d have to turn to the aid of other doctors and he wasn’t too keen on the idea.

 

    It was common knowledge that the Great Detective was an Omega, but just because many knew, didn’t mean they were accepting. Many of the nefarious villains and brutes they encountered during cases and even some of the noble folk who ought to have known better, often spat Omegaphobic slurs Holmes’ way and even once, an Alpha woman of high stature posed a question to Watson as to how a highly-esteemed Alpha such as himself wasn’t ashamed to be seen with such a lowly, unkempt Omega such as Holmes. It had taken all of Holmes’ self-control to not rip off her ridiculously huge bonnet and tackle her to the ground, luckily he had enough sense to know that he wouldn’t be serving to make Omegas look better by engaging in such a base act and after Watson shot her down with a scathing retort, Holmes happily resumed ignoring her in favor of solving the mystery.

 

    Inspector Lestrade  and the rest of the Yard, upon hearing the news that an Omega was in their midst, never failed to treat Holmes as he wanted to be treated, as if he were merely a brilliant man who could do his job well and was as human as the rest of them. For this, Holmes could often reason that though he believed Lestrade could do better at sleuthing, he wasn’t a complete bumbling dullard of a man and the respect Holmes had for him could almost, perhaps rival the respect he had for Holmes.

 

    Some doctors were less understanding of Omegas and their functioning and because of this, they refused to treat them and thus, many Omegas found themselves having to fall into the role expected of them, getting mated, if only to stay alive, to keep the violent heats at bay. Holmes was lucky for Watson for many reasons, but this was one of the main ones; Watson provided him with quality care and suppressants without even asking for anything in return or turning up his nose or any of that. He was a great friend and Holmes as always, didn’t know what he’d do without him.

 

    Now, Holmes, without having the slightest clue as to how he ended up on the floor pressed against the wall opposite his bed, sat there trying to think of ice cubes and the seaside to keep cool and maintain whatever sanity he had left.

 

    He heard footsteps outside his door. He hoped it was Mrs. Hudson finally here to drag him to a bathtub filled with ice or logically, here to inform him that it was breakfast time. He would rise to let her in, but his legs felt so, so wobbly and they felt as if they couldn’t be trusted to carry him half a centimeter, much less the entire way to the door, which, mind you, seemed very far away at the moment.

 

    There was a knocking, then: “Holmes! Good Morning. What, in God’s name are you up to in there? It smells like—oh!” Blessed Mercy, it was Watson and from the sounds of things, it seemed like the doctor caught on pretty quickly. “Holmes, I’m coming in.”

 

    Watson was in his room and by his side in a minute, checking his vitals and assessing the degree of deliriousness caused by his heat so far. Holmes, barely clinging onto consciousness, felt something as Watson’s cool hands touched his forehead. He felt something shift inside him, distracting him from the cramps, but making even more slick seep through his backside. With unfocused eyes, he peered up at Watson and saw the reason for the sudden, slight alleviation of the effects of his heat; for the first time since Watson took the Omega as his patient, Holmes’ heat was having an effect on _him_ , Watson’s nostrils flared and his face flushed red. It was apparent he was scenting the air and was ineluctably getting aroused in the process.

 

           At any other time, Holmes would have a sassy comment divulging his observation of Watson’s predicament, but seeing that he could barely think, let alone formulate a proper sentence and force his mouth to form the words, Holmes voted in favor of just sitting there and letting Watson tend to him.

 

          Except Watson was still paused and when Holmes’ eyes behaved themselves enough for him to focus on the doctor, the intensity of which Watson was staring was enough to send a thrill through Holmes’ belly.

 

          Watson’s bright blue eyes were almost completely eclipsed by pupil, they studied Holmes and the predatory glint in their depths could not be mistaken for anything else. His breathing was shallow and the more he inhaled, the more of Holmes’ scent he took in.

 

          But he wasn’t the only one; Watson’s heady aroma, which was barely masked by the cologne he was wearing, filled Holmes’ nostrils and caused his mouth to water and desire to curl through him. Watson smelled of nothing but pure, unconcealed Alpha male and Holmes wanted all of it, wanted his own skin to bear that smell.

 

          Unconsciously, he found himself baring his neck to Watson, submitting to him in the way his body, ingrained with such knowledge from birth, knew to get an Alpha’s attention and compliance.

 

          _Knot me, knot me, knot me_ …swum around and around Holmes’ mind and for once, he wished Watson could hear his thoughts so he wouldn’t have to say them out loud. His tongue, no longer of use to him in terms of speaking, seemed more keen to the idea of tasting the flesh at the hollow of Watson’s throat than anything else.

 

          Watson coughed and looked away from the pretty picture Holmes was making of himself. “Holmes,” he called, but it was more in warning than an acceptance to the invitation.

 

          “Watson,” Holmes managed to whine, leaning up from off the wall to rest his forehead on the doctor’s shoulder. “I need to you to do away with my clothes. I’m fever hot and your blatant staring, I’m afraid, isn’t helping.”

 

          “How is it that you’re in heat? I thought you were taking your suppressants religiously.”

 

          “Well, Mother Hen,” Holmes uttered, feeling his head start to spin from being so close to Watson and his invitingly manly scent. “I had to stop them. They were getting in the way.”

 

          “Of what? Holmes, please don’t tell me you traded in prescribed medication for that of your cocaine?”

 

          When he didn’t receive an answer, Watson sighed. “Of course you did.”

 

          “Will I perish from this Watson? For I certainly feel touch-starved and feverish.” To illustrate his point, he pressed what he could of his body to Watson’s side and let out a wanton moan as he felt the doctor’s body heat through their clothes.

 

          Watson wasted no time in rising to his feet, bringing Holmes’ with him as best as he could manage with a sick leg. “You need to stay in bed, get some fluids in you and—”

 

          Holmes’ mind had trailed off at the idea of exactly what kind of fluids he wanted. A vision of himself, strapped to the bed with both his and Watson’s spunk painting his chest, Watson’s spill leaking down his thighs mingling with the slick already oozing from his wet, abused hole—  “Holmes?” Watson called to him. “You need to lie down.”

 

          That snapped him back to reality, and soon he was complying with Watson’s request.

 “I’m going to ring Mrs. Hudson and ask her to get you some water, in the mean time, try not to move around so much and focus on breathing. At this point in time, it’s really simple for you to overheat. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Watsom turned to leave, but just before he could walk through the door, Holmes called to him.

 

          “We have cases to solve Watson, this is preposterous. I’m not some helpless Omega who can’t think past getting a knot.” Holmes could feel the heat returning and his pulse quickening as Watson’s Alpha presence nearly dominated the entire room and he pondered on the accuracy of such a statement.

 

          Watson stepped closer, his face unreadable. “No one accused you of being helpless or begging for a knot, Holmes. But you have another thing coming if you think I’m going to just allow you in this state to leave this room. You’ve practically alerted every Alpha in this town and the one over of your presence. Needless to mention Lestrade would be in ill temper if I let you step even one foot back at the Yard like this.”

 

          Holmes rose up from bed as best as he could manage at those words. “Are you saying that just because I’m an Omega I can’t perform my duties and errands like any normal human being?”

 

          “Holmes,” Watson sighed, clearly getting fed up with the conversation. “I’m just saying that you should take sick leave until this heat passes. It’s dangerous for you to be out when your heat is so severe. You’ve gone too long without a partner, I hate to say this Old Cock, but if we don’t find you a mate soon, it will only get worse.”

 

          “I don’t need a mate! I, the Great Sherlock Holmes can manage just fine without—” Another shooting cramp tore through his abdomen and he had to clutch his waist again, hoping to quell the agony.

 

          Watson came to his side. “Holmes, you need an Alpha.” He stated, voice softening as he gently stroked a hand through the detective’s hair.

 

          Holmes tried not to visibly shudder at the touch and instead tried to focus on evening out his breathing at Watson’s instruction, watching the doctor’s retreating form as he left the room, an errant thought crossed Holmes’ mind and he dismissed it immediately. He told himself that it was the heat talking, but it resonated with him and only served to make him even more hot and bothered. _You’re wrong,_ his mind echoed, _I don’t need just any Alpha, I need you…_

         

 


	2. The Heat Is On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his heat rages on, Holmes finds himself in a civil war between his body's natural urges and his complex, overworked mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I just want to thank you for the kudos, the subscriptions, the hits, all the love. I really appreciate it as it really has encouraged me to write more. 
> 
> Update: I have a beta now! Secret, if you're reading this, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping me with this story and this chapter especially. You're the best there is. :)
> 
> Song I listened to while writing this chapter: Hypnotic by Vanic and Zella Day.
> 
> You've all been so patient with me, and in return I put a lot of work and love into this chapter, so here's hoping you guys enjoy it.
> 
> Please enjoy. :)

_Lust has no mercy –Unknown_

 

     He lay in his bed, trying to even out his breathing and think innocent, peaceful thoughts. The throbbing between his legs remained insistent, but he fought it. Mentally, it _would_ take the edge off if he were to succumb to the desire pulsing through him, the desire to touch himself, but at the same time, physically, it would only make his body’s craving for a knot much, much worse.

     Memories of his time spent as a teenager having a good wank and ending in never feeling truly satisfied resurfaced, causing him to groan in frustration. Even then, his fingers were never wide or long enough; they could never truly hit that spot when he needed it.

     Still, he refused to find an Alpha or submit to those who accosted him; at least he tried not to when he was in his right mind.

     For years, he made himself believe that Alphas were the enemy, after all, biology manuals made it clear there was never any room for independent Omegas and that Alphas were to be the ones to run things.

     Of course, he knew that some Alphas were more than just a knot. Although they were placed higher on the hierarchy and were ranked above Omegas, it far from meant that they always had it easy.

     But Sherlock’s main concern was the Omegas and their well-being.  Thus, he made it his life’s mission to disprove the theory that Omegas couldn’t survive on their own.  If he could manage his heats with his fingers alone, then the theory of Omegas needing Alphas would be discredited.

     Except his efforts required some …additional assistance, and soon he had to begin taking suppressants. At first, his pride got in the way. It was sheer willpower that helped him manage his heats for so long before suppressants became a must,  and it was akin to sacrificing a limb when he acceded to Watson’s suggestion to at least try the damnable things.

     As stupid as it was to quit taking them, at least he’d have his pride back when this heat was over and he could profess to doing it without one pill.  It was will power that helped tame the mighty beast and it would be will power that would help him now.

     Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long for a distraction from the hysteria that his mind was giving way to from the boredom of simply breathing; Mrs. Hudson was in his room a little while after Watson departed.  And as the doctor promised, she brought with her a pitcher of water.

     Holmes, temporarily forgetting himself, greedily gulped down the glass she offered him. “You’re a blessing, Mrs. Hudson.” He told her, gasping at the cool feeling of liquid rushing down his throat.

     The woman, never one to hide her displeasure with his actions, huffed and rolled her eyes exasperatedly, completely ignoring his comment. “It was a foolish thing to do, ceasing to take your suppressants. One would think you were _trying_ to make life harder for yourself.”

     Holmes frowned at her. He simply wasn’t in the mood to be having this conversation with his long-suffering landlady. “ _Woman_ , I don’t expect _you_ to understand. You’ve been mated for what, eighty years now? If you ask me, it hardly seems fair for you to judge.” He probably said it with more bite than he’d meant. But in his defense, his head was starting to hurt; the litany of dirty thoughts attempting to assault his mind to which he was trying to keep at bay since Watson’s arrival were getting more and more unbearable by the minute and Mrs. Hudson’s dry personality, although tolerable at the best of times, despite their bickering Holmes and she somehow found it possible to get along, seemed completely insufferable now.

     It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that she made a good point; he was, after all, as capable of understanding the repercussions of his actions as anyone else. He simply didn’t see why she felt it necessary to kick a man while he was down. He was about to ask her this, when the air seemed to escape from the room, and his temperature suddenly spiked at an alarming rate.

     Without realizing it, he reached for the pitcher. Luckily, Mrs. Hudson understood the nonverbal cue and poured him another glass, which he promptly emptied over his head, dousing his hair and nightshirt with the blessed liquid.

     To Mrs. Hudson’s dissatisfaction, the bed sheets got drenched in the process. She put her hands on her hips and muttered a few choice words under her breath as she set out to fetch more sheets from the linen closet.

     When she came back, Holmes had extricated himself from the bed and was standing facing the window. To his chagrin, the cool wind of the London air that blew into the room did little to subdue his rising temperature, and with much aggravation, he turned away from it to watch Mrs. Hudson make the bed.

     “Fetch me the doctor. I believe there’s something wrong.” He croaked after some time went by, and his temperature was beginning to rise to an intolerable level.

     Mrs. Hudson paused from her task to give him a disapproving glare. “The doctor stepped out for a moment.”

     Holmes frowned. “Wherever would he go?”

     The older woman shrugged, “I’m afraid I don’t know. But if you ask me, I’d say it was to get away from your scent. Lord knows it’s already on everything.”

     Holmes balked at her, before reclaiming his composure. “Well woman, as always your cheerful disposition has been nothing but a delight, but I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now for it is the doctor’s company I seek—”

     Mrs. Hudson pinned him with a stern look. Coming closer until they were only inches apart, “Quitting your suppressants was a foolish decision. I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” she reminded, quirking an eyebrow at him as if awaiting his admission.

     Instead his expression matched hers, and he whispered venomously, once he found the correct response muddling through his heat-addled brain, “The only lesson I’ve learnt today, Mrs. Hudson, is lonely landladies have nothing better to do than stick their noses where they don’t belong. Now, if you please, I’ll just go draw myself a bath until Watson returns.”

     To his satisfaction, she huffed and returned to making the bed. He would’ve enjoyed his small victory a little longer had his legs not tried to fail him and he had to walk, quite ungracefully, to the bath where he collapsed immediately onto the cool floor.

     Taking a few deep breaths, he attempted to remove his nightshirt with shaking fingers. When his tortured member finally sprang free, he fought the temptation to touch himself once again.

     Approaching the sink, he ran some of the cool water against his hands and vigorously scrubbed his face. Then he turned toward the bath and hoped to regain some sanity so day one could be over and done with. _Come on Sherlock, it’s only five days…_ he coached himself.

     His temperature was still at that unbearable level; his legs were weak and his vision was beginning to swim. Giving up, finally, he bent so his forehead was touching the edge of the tub and his arse was poised in the air. Gritting his teeth, he trailed his hand down to his leaking prick and gently gave it a tug, sliding his thumb over the slit, which glistened with precum.

     Immediately, his body tensed with the force of his release and he came all over his hand. It was relieving to finally find some reprieve from his pent up frustration, but it was terribly short-lived.

     He could feel himself hardening again while more slick leaked out of his backside. Feeling defeated, he whimpered before resigning himself to repeat the process until he was spent, even if it took him all day.

     He trailed his hand down to his member again, giving it a few tugs and sighing in relief as he felt some of the pressure ease.  Naturally, more slick began to trickle from his neglected arse, and he gingerly reached behind him to seek out the bundle of nerves that would take him to the Promised Land.

     To his delight, his fingers were met with no resistance, and he groaned as each digit was swallowed up by the sweet, welcoming heat of his hole. He arched his spine; fingering himself with no mercy, he reduced himself to a babbling, begging mess. And yet he could find no reason to care, not when it felt so _good_.

     The fingers that wrapped around his cock moved in tandem with the fingers in his arse and as his heightened awareness almost shifted into a frenzy, an image appeared in his head of Watson, with his deliciously virile Alpha smell, holding him down and fucking him with abandon, knot swelling and breeding him up so everyone would know who the Great Sherlock Holmes belonged to.

     He came then, riding out the rest of his orgasm, chanting Watson’s name like a prayer.

 

* * *

 

     When Holmes emerged from the bath with fresh clothes and a pleasure filled smile, he found Watson in the study, reading one of the books Holmes recognized as the one his friend often read for leisure.

     “It’s nice that you’re enjoying yourself while I’m quite literally suffering through my own personal corner of Hell.” He commented, narrowing his eyes at the doctor and trying to contain his envy.

     Watson dropped the book immediately. He was tense, Holmes could see, and was probably experiencing the same hyper vigilant awareness as he himself was. It confounded Holmes as he couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why Watson was acting so strange. Usually Holmes’ scent wasn’t this much of a problem for him; now it seemed like his friend was avoiding him because of it.

     This heat was hard enough to endure as it was; he didn’t need his friend to be distant with him as well.

     There was no substantial reason for Watson’s behavior.  Yes, it was an accepted fact that Omegas in heat emitted a scent that attracted capable and compatible Alphas in search of a mate, but concurrently, already mated or disinterested Alphas were almost immune from the pull of the Omega’s scent.

     And Watson was already bonded to the beta Mary. That was correct, right?  There was no need for this…evasion. It was completely unnecessary as Watson, in addition to being bonded already, was in no way, shape or form, interested— _hmmm..._

     Holmes swallowed thickly, remembering their little moment in his bedroom. He was scenting Watson, and Watson was scenting _him_. His unmated body was responding to the promise of what his friend could bring him, and Watson, in return, was sensing the same opportunity.

     Watson was attracted to him, and he was trying to deny himself. It all made sense: the odd behavior, the latest attempts at evasion, the fact that there ceased to be a problem whenever Holmes took his suppressants…

     “Oh!” Holmes exclaimed.

     Watson was on his feet immediately. “What’s wrong Holmes? Are your cramps intensifying?”

     Sherlock couldn’t help it, his lips curved into a smirk as his huge bourbon eyes peered up at Watson with renewed understanding and the thrill of victory. “No, my friend, it appears I’ve had an epiphany.”

     “Whatever are you going on about Holmes?” Watson’s hand, which was about to touch the bohemian’s shoulder, fell to his side as he took a step back.

     “ _That_ , my dear friend, is what I’m referring to.” He gestured to the doctor’s now folded arms and the new distance between the two men.

     “What? I’m simply giving you your space. I know that when you’re in heat—you—it’s best not to startle you—” Watson was scrambling to think of an explanation and failing miserably.

     “We’re two grown men. I’ll have you know that the behavior you’re exhibiting is both gratuitous and quite frankly, below you Watson. I’d prefer it if you were to just be honest with me.”

     His friend, the guilty man, moved around him to see if, presumably Mrs. Hudson was about, before shutting the doors of the study behind him and turning to face him. “Holmes, I don’t know what you’re implying or what that inquisitive brain of yours is seeking to find out, but I assure you it’s all—”

     Sherlock stopped him by putting a hand in the air. “Remember those biology manuals they required of us to read as teenagers?”

     Watson pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed. “Yes, but—”

     “Do you remember the part where it explained that when unmated humans found their compatible mates, the attraction was more than just a pull, it was a downright irresistible force drawing the two together?”

     “Of course Holmes. I’m a doctor. We study soulbonds and pheromones extensively. Don’t tell me you, the dubious skeptic, believe in that, as you call it, farce?” Watson raised an eyebrow.

     “No, Mother Hen, but as I’m learning with this recent heat, almost everything I knew about my body and the bodies of others’ is almost, entirely erroneous. Except for the soul part: no one has a soul. That’s just a preconceived notion that they tried to force down our throats before we were old enough to know better.”

     “Holmes, where are you going with this?” The doctor fixed him with an inquiring look.

     Holmes cleared his throat. He was grateful that his heat had let up enough for him to start thinking clearly, but as to how long it would last, he had no clue. “You’re attracted to me Watson. I’ve noticed, in case you’re in the mood to deny it, you haven’t stopped twitching since I entered the room; you’re breathing has been erratic for the past ten minutes and your eyes haven’t left my lips, even as I’m speaking right now.”

     Watson’s jaw dropped before he regained his composure. “Holmes, that’s preposterous. I have bonded with Mary. Besides, those biology manuals were written by biased, ignorant men who had no patience for learning or spreading the truth.”

     “Of course, it’s been said that if the attraction existed before between two people, the rush of pheromones emitted during a heat or rut, would only make it worse.” Holmes continued, ignoring him.

     Watson, getting fed up with this conversation or, more accurately, _accusation_ , walked up to Holmes so the dark-eyed man had nowhere to look but at him. “Look, I’ll prove to you that there is no—” But at that moment a breeze blew in from the open window and carried along with it the warm, inviting scent of vanilla and poached apricots. A Parisian delight that he never yet tasted before and yet instantly made his mouth water.

     Unaware of what he was doing and unable to find the iron will he so carefully honed over the years to control himself, he gripped the other man by his hair feeling the soft tufts of curls under his fingers and tilted his head so that Holmes’ pale, unblemished throat was revealed to him before he gently pressed his nose to that soft, yielding flesh and inhaled.

     It was like walking into the sun after living in an igloo for so long. Like drowning and then coming up for air. Like a starved man getting his long awaited meal. The scent, oh God, _Holmes’ scent_ , which was downright enchanting before, but now that he could smell it better to the point of almost _tasting_ it on his tongue, was absolutely scrumptious now. Watson wanted, oh how he _wanted_ to bury himself and wrap himself up in that smell.

     It was strange as, being a doctor, he had worked with many Omegas before. Even some in truly severe heats, but no one had ever smelled like this. _My goodness_ , he thought, _it’s even better up close…_

     Holmes, whose breathing had started to become erratic and who was surprisingly silent this whole time, swallowed then and Watson could feel the motion from where his face was still pressed against Holmes’ throat.

     From so near, Watson could feel Holmes’ heart beating and the scent grew stronger. It was then that he realized that Holmes was secreting more pheromones. He also knew that if he were to touch his backside, his hand would surely come up wet, and that knowledge alone was doing unhealthy things to his sanity.

     Recollecting himself, Watson pulled away from Holmes and was about to rattle off a litany of apologies as well as a promise to move as far away as possible and never come back when he felt someone pulling on his arm.

     When he looked up he found Holmes, appearing afraid, but aroused out of his mind. “I need—”

     Watson swallowed, wanting nothing more than to finish the sentence for Holmes and then proceed to give him exactly what he needed. But all that came out of his mouth was, “You need your suppressants.”

     Holmes frowned. “No—”

     “And you’re staying on them this time. I’m about to be _married_ , Holmes. It wouldn’t be fair to Mary, and it wouldn’t be fair to you if we pursued this silly _thing_.” Though the thought of _claiming_ Holmes, making him _his_ , watching him swell with his pups, bearing his mark, was overwhelming, but he knew he couldn’t do that to his good friend _or_ his fiancée.

     So, gathering the self-control he spent so long mastering, Watson left a quiet, contemplative Holmes to go fetch the bottle of suppressants he carried around with him in case of emergencies.

     Placing them in Holmes’ hand, he said. “I know that this is your body’s natural call to be mated, and I know how severely being mated with somebody would impede you from your mission to help others and bring Omegism down. So I’m offering you an out, Holmes.”

     To his surprise, Holmes pushed them away. “No Watson, this will not do. I need you to knot me or I’m afraid I’ll self-destruct.”

     Watson peered deep into Holmes’ eyes for signs of humor but found nothing but seriousness in their dark depths. “Holmes, believe me, you won’t regret taking these, they’ll help you return to your senses.”

     “No!”

     “Remember who you are Holmes!” He shouted, staring straight at the heart of the heated man’s eyes.

     They stayed up for most of the afternoon until it bled into night, bickering like that until Holmes conceded to take the abhorrent things.

     Not all was good, for the next day Holmes’ heat was even more insufferable than before. Watson knew as soon as Mrs. Hudson let him in that morning and was not only greeted by that tantalizing smell that seemed to have been intensified ten fold, but he was also aware of the rock hard aching in his trousers almost immediately as the scent invaded his being.

     As if pulled by some unexplainable force, Watson found himself knocking on Holmes’s bedroom door and was met by a sweaty, panting, looking already fucked out of his mind, wide eyed with blown pupils, Sherlock who didn’t speak but merely pulled Watson inside.

     It was then that he knew that not only had the emergency suppressants failed but that this heat was more severe than he feared, and as he was pushed into a nearby chair with Holmes climbing onto his lap, he couldn’t find it within himself to deny his hindbrain anymore and realized then that fucking his best friend was going to come as natural to him as breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'll end this on chapter 3, there might be more chapters, I'm not sure yet. I'm having a great time writing this, though. Thank you all for reading, I really hope you guys enjoyed. 
> 
> If you have any questions/comments/concerns, feel free to leave me a comment and I'll respond as soon as I can.
> 
> Once again, I want to thank my beta Secret for the help, the edits, the suggestions, the whole shebang. And thank you for reading, and all the love and support. You all really know how to make a girl's day. Stay safe out there. Next chapter coming soon!


	3. Like Fire and Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes and Watson finally do something about their desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, it appears we've reached the end of the line. Thank you so much for giving this story any attention at all and for supporting this fic. I will always appreciate it. I am so grateful for the kudos, hits, subscriptions, bookmarks, everything. 
> 
> I want to thank my beta Secret for the amazing help. Secret, you're so wonderful, I liked the chapter when I was writing it but after your edits, I fell in love. 
> 
> My end goal was to produce something essentially enjoyable and as close to the original as possible, and I hope I achieved that. I love the Sherlock fandom and all the amazing people in it. Thanks guys!
> 
> Song I listened to while writing this: Body Electric by Lana Del Rey.
> 
> Enjoy.

Like Fire and Gasoline

_Hot as a fever_   
_Rattling bones_   
_I could just taste it_   
_Taste it_

_If it's not forever_   
_If it's just tonight_   
_Oh it's still the greatest_   
_The greatest_   
_The greatest_

__

                                          —Sex on Fire, Kings of Leon

 

     Holmes placed burning kisses to Watson’s throat and Watson, feeling delirious from the flood of pheromones surging from the detective’s form, gripped Holmes’ hips in an attempt to slow things down, to try to get his own brain to focus on something other than _claim, knot, claim._

     He had never let himself succumb to such primal urges, the urge to _mate_ before, and though it felt good, he couldn’t help but want to control it because this was still his friend; he didn’t want to rush things or lose command of the situation.  But the contact only served to make them both more aroused as Holmes’ skin through the thin cotton of his nightshirt was sinfully warm as the heated man let out a lascivious moan at Watson’s touch, grinding his hips down so the doctor could feel the hard outline of his cock through their clothing. Watson couldn’t help but long, for once, for his conscience to take a back seat. _Just let me have this…_ he begged internally, feeling his own member thicken and stand at attention.

     His hands, as if having a mind of their own, reached around to grip the plush swells of Holmes’ arsecheeks, and the detective sighed, producing more slick, wetting Watson’ s palms in the process.

     The delightful, tantalizing smell of vanilla and poached apricots surrounded him again, but this time it was everywhere, inescapable. The Alpha in Watson flared as the scent wrapped itself around him, as if it were a gentle caress, tempting him to _take, take, take._

     Holmes’ voice, rough and gravelly from disuse, broke him from his apparent abstraction. “Well, old boy, I never anticipated your cooperation,” the bohemian professed, sounding cool and collected while he paused to study Watson with big, blown eyes, but as Watson focused on him, with his hair looking as if it was tugged every which way, his lips kiss bitten and his skin flushed pink, Holmes looked the very _opposite_ of cool and collected and every bit as scrumptious and delectable as a piece of forbidden fruit. The detective appeared as if he walked out of one of Watson’s dirtiest fantasies, the ones he was guilty of having but couldn’t stop his brain from conjuring. And with the sexy, smug smile Holmes was wearing, it seemed as if he somehow knew it too.

     And like the subject of Watson’s fantasies, Holmes sat there on his lap, eager and panting, begging with his body what his mouth was too heat addled to say.

     Watson was no saint. He had tried going down that road but it was not for him. And yet, Sherlock Holmes, as he knew from the moment they first met, was going to lead to both his salvation and his demise, saint or not.

     He cupped one of Holmes’ fevered pink cheeks and leaned forward to kiss the lips that nearly ruined his life countless times. But before their lips could meet, Holmes stopped him. “Watson, I-I need you to know, dear friend, that you most definitely have a choice in the matter. I need you to know that you are free to back out now,” Sherlock’s eyes burned from the heat, but also with unconcealed sincerity. “Once we’re mated, there is no returning, at least not for me.” He finished, staring into Watson’s eyes with an intensity that could only be described as calculating.

      Watson blinked, the feral part of him bowing down for a moment. And then he sighed at the realization. “Holmes, you think I’m doing this out of necessity and not my own personal desires?”

      Sherlock didn’t answer him but averted his gaze to a point on the doctor’s shoulder. Watson waited, and after a few beats, Holmes spoke: “To be honest, I am at a loss of what to think, but I want you, and for once, I’m glad I can use the heat as an excuse.”

      Watson was glad that Holmes finally admitted what he was dying to hear. John nearly laughed in glee because, of course, it would take a critical medical condition to get them to realize they both desired and needed each other and to admit it to one another. But there was something in Holmes’ voice that one wouldn’t catch, if one didn’t know him well. “You’re afraid that after we do this, I’ll leave you for Mary?” It was more of an accusation than a question, but he had asked it with a hint of concern nonetheless.

      Holmes was on the verge of denying it, but Watson stopped him. “I understand that it’s possible for an Alpha to leave an Omega, even after mating, but believe me Holmes, and I know that brain of yours has probably already figured it out before you have, we are already bonded. I have given you and told you everything I ever could. You’re my best friend. And if you think that I wouldn’t need you as much as you’d need me, then you’re wrong, because I’m still here, even after everything we’ve been through. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted and needed, could ever want or need, and now I’m going to give you what we’ve both been dying for.” And with that he pressed their lips together, finally tasting the forbidden fruit he’d been denying himself for so long, his heart pounding in his ears, his fingertips, the base of his throat, a cry from deep within in utter bliss. His body was a raging fire coursing through his veins with an undeniable desire.

       It was better than he ever imagined, and he had imagined this numerous times.  As much as he wanted to savor it, the feral Alpha part of him that was bursting through wanted to taste more of Holmes, see if the rest of him was as sweet as that mouth of his. Gently, he pried his lips from Sherlock’s before ripping the rest of the buttons off his nightshirt, receiving a surprised yelp from the other man that quickly turned into a whimper as he latched his mouth over one rosy pebble of a nipple.

      Holmes’ fingers found his hair, entangling them within those locks, and Watson growled, lifting them both and carrying them to Holmes’ bed where he lowered the other man down on his back all the while nipping at the nub, before suckling it again, forcing Sherlock to keen shamelessly at the pleasure sparking through him. It was a sensation he was not expecting, it was fuzzy, like static, electric as the arousing touch swept up and down his nerves, causing his toes to curl.

      The detective’s pink mouth, wet now with a mix of both their saliva, was left forming an ‘O’ and as Watson watched, Holmes bit down on his plush bottom lip before tilting his head back in perfect submission.

     “Watson,” he mewled, “I need.”

      “And I’ll give it to you.” Watson assured, licking his lips and scenting the air as more of the sweet, mouth-watering aroma of Holmes’ slick permeated the atmosphere. 

       When Watson peered downwards, he found Holmes’ legs spread wide, and the pastry-sweet scent of the unclaimed, needy Omega went straight to his groin, inviting him.

      It almost seemed as if Holmes’ neglected to put on any underwear, and as Watson lifted the hem of his nightshirt up, he found his conjecture to be true.

       Holmes’ cock, looking an unhealthy shade of purple, curved towards his stomach with a bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip. To Watson it was a thing of beauty. It gleamed in the morning light and Watson, feeling starved and tortured from the sensory overload flooding his being, leaned down to taste the shiny fluid.

      Holmes squirmed but halted once Watson placed both of his palms firmly to the Omega’s hips, holding him still as he leaned down to take the other man’s full length in his mouth. Watson flicked his tongue at the tip, testing Holmes’ arousal in piqued interest, earning a mewl from the quivering and heavily panting Omega. The reaction set the Alpha into action as he took Holmes whole, running his tongue along the underside of the flushed organ.

       Holmes’ breath caught at the erotic pleasure, moans choking in his throat as he tried to quiet his voice. He might have been in heat but that didn’t mean he couldn’t remain refined. At a hard suck, the detective gasped, his fingers found themselves buried in Watson’s locks, his body trying hard not to buck his hips into the man’s wondrous caverns.

        Holmes came then with a loud cry, spurting his gloriously sweet release down Watson’s throat. The Alpha removed his lips, stroking him through it, pumping him of all he had until he was both spent and oversensitive.

      Holmes took all but a few seconds to recover before he flipped Watson onto his back, pressing the Alpha to the head board and slowly divesting him of the rest of his clothes. The detective didn’t try for any finesse and once Watson’s own cock was free of its confines, he could see the exact moment when Holmes, with his mouth dangling open, realized just how real this was.

       Eyes as big as saucers and nearly black as the night sky, peered up at him. “ _That’s_ going to fit in _me_?” Holmes asked, looking shocked, curious but aroused out of his mind as he studied the long, proud arch of Watson’s member.

       Watson laughed, and pulled Holmes in for a hug. Ghosting his breath across the detective’s ear, Watson whispered dangerously: “That’s the beauty of the human anatomy dear boy; you _stretch_ and I would know, not only am I a doctor but I’ve imagined so many times how pretty you’d look stuffed full with my cock.” 

       He kneaded the flesh of Holmes’ arse to emphasize his statement, groaning as he spread the Omega open and felt warm slick trail down his fingers.

       Holmes’ whined at the contact and impossibly more slick trickled down his hole to coat Watson’s fingers. “It feels like I’m sitting on a lit torch.” He grumbled, pressing his forehead to Watson’s shoulder and tilting his arse backward for more of the doctor’s prodding.

      "I’ll relieve you of the burn soon,” Watson promised, stroking his own aching erection at the sight of Holmes looking so needy and delicious. “I’m inferring that this position is good for you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at the Omega.

      If Watson were foolish, he’d almost believe that Holmes was blushing, but since his whole body was flushed red and positively glowing because of the heat, it wasn’t safe to assume anything. Watson waited a beat, and as Holmes recollected himself, he panted, “I need…you Watson…need my Alpha.” And that did it for Watson. Lifting Holmes up by his hips and positioning the Omega over his cock, he let out a growl before slowly lowering the wanton man onto his hard length.

     He was thinking it might’ve been best to prep Holmes first, get him accustomed to the feeling of being stretched, but all thought escaped his mind as he was swallowed in the tight, wet heat of the Omega. Holmes whole body tensed and his eyes closed, mouth agape, reveling in the feeling of having something to soothe the burn. He didn’t think it could get any better, until he looked up at Watson, who seemed to be having a hard time staying still.

      Through the hazy flood of earthy Alpha pheromones, his own pastry-sweet scent clouding his mind and the painful pleasure of having Watson’s cock inside him, he shuddered and Watson, in warning, gripped his hips tight.

      “Watson,” he begged, “need… _more_.”

      The doctor didn’t seem to need to be told twice. Gently, keeping Holmes in place with the grip he had on his hips, he thrusted upwards, further sheathing himself in that sweltering, tight heat, burying himself up to the hilt with almost no resistance. Holmes arched his spine and shuddered, putting his hands out behind him, marveling at the fact that his body was taking it. Watson had to bite his lip as he felt the Omega’s body clenching around him, trying to coax his knot to swell.

      Watson couldn’t help it, his hips snapped forward on their own accord, causing Holmes to chant a litany of _yes_ and _more_ as Watson apparently hit the right spot. And never being one to deny Holmes anything, he set a brutal pace, snapping his hips upwards to penetrate that spot again and again. Watson’s hands roamed the expanse of the Omega’s flushed skin hungrily, deep desire fueling his actions as his teeth grazed the whimpering man’s neck, causing him to shiver and react more harshly to the deep thrusts he was engulfing.

       Holmes moaned at the drag of Watson’s length, brushing his sweet spot but also pressing against the sensitive walls of his leaking hole. He wasn’t going to last long that was for sure.  It was so much pleasure he could feel it, tingling beneath his skin, deep in his bones, Watson was doing this to him and he was more than grateful.

       To illustrate the depth of his gratitude he rose himself up, meeting Watson’s hard, perfect thrust on the down-stroke and stars danced behind his eyelids as the bliss rippled through him.

        Watson began to fuck him with abandon, and all Holmes could manage to do was wrap his arms around the Alpha’s neck and meet him thrust for thrust, riding him the way he was meant to.

       A growl built low in Watson’s throat as the pleasure peaked to a crescendo. Fingers slid in Holmes’ hair and Watson gave the soft tufts a tug, baring that beautiful, unblemished throat for his hungry eyes, before sinking his teeth into the flesh and marking Holmes finally.

       Holmes came then, without even a hand on his cock, spurting white ropes of it on Watson’s stomach, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. He would be slightly embarrassed of this, if his body wasn’t busy trying to milk Watson of all his spend and if the knot currently filling his arse didn’t hurt so good.

      Watson finally stilled, his cock filling Holmes to the brim with his hot essence, and he growled as he continued to thrust and pump the Omega full of come. Holmes’ reaction to the searing liquid filling him up was to squirm restlessly on top of the Alpha. To Watson’s curiosity and unexpected amusement—Holmes’ fidgeting was doing wonderful things to his already spent dick.

     “What’s the matter, Holmes?” Watson inquired once his tongue stopped feeling like lead and he could finally use it for something other than growling or licking the sensitive flesh of Holmes’ neck. “Does it hurt?”

      Holmes, whose eyes were closed tight and who’s shuttering hips were moving on their own, searching to milk Watson for everything he had. “Feels…so…good…Watson.” The Omega breathed out in admittance.

      Watson managed to smirk. “Good, because we’re going to be tied together for a little while.”

      Holmes raised a dark eyebrow, his eyes were returning to their whiskey color and his skin, although still glowing, was slowly regaining its normal tan and not the flushed red look anymore, he looked more like himself, albeit a fucked out, wrecked version, but at least now, he was becoming more recognizable. “How long?”

      Watson shrugged, “Thirty minutes is the standard, but seeing that I’ve never mated before, and all my knowledge about mating was acquired through textbooks instead of experience, it’s just a supposition.”

      “Hmm,” was Holmes’ response, before he pulled Watson in for a fierce kiss. Watson’s eyes widened for a moment before their lips connected, searching, wanting to find a greater depth as their tongues danced and their teeth clashed. Both men moaned deeply as they fueled each other’s passion.

      “Whatever was that for?” Watson asked as they parted, panting with heavy lidded eyes.

      “For giving me what I needed. For saving me from getting mated to some nameless Alpha. For taking the one thing I both feared giving up and was yet eager to get rid of.” Holmes admitted, resting his head on Watson’s shoulder.

      Watson nodded. “You’re more than welcome, Holmes. You’re mine now and I promise to protect you and never have you hurt or hunger.” He inhaled, and the scent of sex along with the salty, heady smell of Alpha mixed with the sweet, sugary smell of Omega filled his nostrils.

      “Well then, it appears that I’m claimed now.” Holmes professed, giving Watson his signature smirk.

     Watson smiled back, before leaning in to wipe the smirk off Holmes’ face with another kiss, this one filthier than the last, leaving them both breathless and panting. “You are claimed, and I promise I’m not a sleazy Alpha, well I promise I’m not _as_ sleazy as those others who’ve accosted you.”

     They both laughed then, enjoying the moment.

    When they finally pulled apart, Watson arranged Holmes so he could rest his no doubt sore muscles in a more comfortable position. Holmes’ body was cool, the heat having finally broken. Watson wrapped his arms around his mate, sharing his body heat with the other man, preventing his desperate Omega from freezing any further.

    They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, happy and finally sated.

* * *

 

_Epilogue_

      Being a claimed Omega was an amazing feeling. There were no more struggles with other Alphas as Watson’s presence was always known, whether he was there or not, and the heats were no longer too much of a problem.

     Of course, Holmes followed his dream of posing as the perfect example of an independent Omega, despite having a mate. Watson didn’t treat him as if he were inferior and bound to the lodging. Their relationship, albeit closer and more intimate, was still the same; Watson treated him like an equal, and maybe even higher than that.

      Mary wasn’t so happy to hear that her fiancé had bonded, but she wasn’t insanely angry either. Apparently, she cared enough about Watson to be content that he was content.

      It was nice, Holmes could admit, to have someone to come home to. To eat, sleep, fight with someone, his best friend rather and not have to worry about the future anymore. And of course, the sex was a huge additional benefit. Neither of them seemed to get tired of the other, always wanting more no matter when or where. For once, Holmes was happy with his life, happy to share it with someone and glad that it was Watson. They had each other and that was enough.

      And now as Holmes stares down at his still flat stomach, wondering and anticipating the future, what it will mean for his little family. He smiles, because there is nothing to fear anymore, he knows what he wants to bring into the world: the same joy Watson has brought to him. The miracle they have created together. His body, once used for defense and destruction, had now created life.  And Watson, who was so many wonderful things: his good friend, his lover, his equal, was now going to be one of the greatest things of all: a father.

****  
  


 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd write more, but I felt that 3 chapters was enough and conveyed all that I was trying to say. I hope you all enjoyed, thank you so much for reading and hopefully I'll be writing more in the future! 
> 
> Special thanks again to my beta Secret, who is both my inspiration and motivation. 
> 
> Be safe out there guys, catch you on the flipside. ;)


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